Sweet Caroline
by ibuberu
Summary: Five times he gets punched, one time he doesn't. Six times they try not to fall in love, but fail. — AaronMaylene.


**world** – game  
**characters/pairings** – Aaron/Maylene  
**notes** – written for pokanon meme on lj  
**prompt **– First date? The karate brothers from Maylene's gym stalking them would be a nice bonus too

* * *

**Sweet Caroline**

The first time they meet, it is at a hotdog-eating competition filled with muscular men and loud grumbles. Aaron goes there in anticipation of large, burly men scarfing down mountains of food in a display of stomach and jaw cooperating in ultimate limbo. He clenches his fists, already eager to get a front row seat to watch as the males stuff themselves tortuously – he fails to understand why the rest of his quintet can't see the thrill in that, so he ends up going alone. The last thing he expects to see if a young female – a timid little thing with keen, shining eyes and chopped pink hair. He resists the temptation to chuckle. The bandage plastered over her petite nose completes the enchantingly adorable effect that girl has on the crowd swimming around her.

Aaron recognizes those scrawny shoulders, white pants and the badge pinned near her neckline. He clicks his tongue and strolls over to where she is waiting eagerly in line for her turn at the table stocked to the brim with hotdogs and mustard. The gym leader looks almost wedged between the sailor and the fire-breather flanking either side of her tiny frame, amiable smile painting her face.

"Maylene, right?" he says warmly, hands interlocking behind his head of emerald hair. "You're a gym leader, if I'm not wrong." He grins boyishly, eyes lilting as her countenance opens up to reveal appropriate recognition and unplaced shock.

"You're part of the Elite Four," she whispers in unsuppressed awe, gaze curious and eager in a way that only a young greenhorn in battling can show.

Aaron finds himself nodding as the words roll nimbly off her tongue, welcoming a breath of self-esteem and pride, straightening his stance and holding a fist to his chest. A smile tugs at the corners of her lips, and he almost feels like chemistry is developing between two entirely unrelated individuals – but no, he must be skimming through one too many of Cynthia's girl-magazines. He brushes the thought away as he lowers his eyes and tries to recall the reason why he had approached her in the beginning.

"Are you participating?" he laughs away the previous thought, not bothering to conceal the incredulity mixed in his inquiry.

Maylene blinks vacantly, before catching the skepticism in his words. She seizes the moment to square her jaw and align her shoulders, politeness wiping itself off her face – immediately substituted with conviction and spunk. Her fist connects with his stomach, and he doubles over as she mumbles a gruff affirmation before storming off with the rest of the ravenous men to the back of the curtains that frame the stage. Aaron freezes after overcoming the unexpected pain, and he cannot help but drop his guard and let surprise cross his face at her change in demeanor. He scratches his temple and questions the feeling of guilt creeping up his spine.

By the end of one hour, the young girl leaves nine plates of hot dogs bare and a table of men admitting defeat. Her captivating bubblegum eyes scan the crowd fervently until they merge in line with Aaron's. She closes one eye and sticks out her tongue at him before marching victoriously off the stage to claim a stack of food coupons. He leans back in his plastic chair, words escaping his throat and interest dawning at the back of his mind – his stomach hurts for a couple of days, in a way that doesn't allow him to completely forget their meeting.

* * *

The first time they touch, it is in between a blizzard and a snowfall, high on the mountains in the middle of nowhere. His teeth clatter as he tugs the jacket closer to himself and keeps his hat firmly over his ears. He has to question himself why Lucian persuaded him into venturing out into the outskirts of Snowpoint to train his flawless bug-pokémon. He is well-aware that he hasn't been doing as well as he should, losing first to a teeny-bopper in overalls, and then to a feisty redhead boy – but he certainly does not need to resort to such extreme conditions to strengthen his team. Bug-types are dynamic and adaptable to anything; this weather would be a delicious piece of cake to withstand, Aaron tells himself as he plants his boots into the snow and tries to do something other than burrow his gloved hands into the thick pockets of his buckled coat.

At the muffled sounds of a girl and her pokémon training, the boy cranes his neck and trudges forward with heavy footsteps, ardent to come into contact with another human – he is getting far too lonely for his liking. When the short female comes into discernable view, he is almost fatigued and gasping, puffs of air forming at his freezing mouth with each cyclic inhale and exhale.

The trainer turns and her hitmontop mimics the action, and Aaron can't help but feel a tingle of familiarity trail down his back as their eyes meet.

"You!" they cry out in unison.

Maylene looks just as shocked as he is, only less clothed – she is wearing her usual training attire, and only that. Aaron arches his eyebrows in a combination of concern and disbelief, his mind whirs, too many questions to properly prioritize and launch at the shivering girl. The fighting-type leader isn't able to suppress a sneeze, and her hands glue themselves to her bare shoulders. Aaron just continues to stare, quite blasé in his manner.

"I-I'm not c-cold!" she manages between clicking teeth.

Aaron bites back a laugh, settles for a smile, before unzipping his coat and throwing one half of it over her stiff shoulders. Maylene retaliates in the beginning, throwing damaging punches this way and that. But slowly, the warmth is too pacifying and addicting to completely abstain from. Their bare shoulders brush underneath the shield of the coat, and he pretends that it doesn't mean anything to him. She withdraws her hitmontop and they proceed to traipse up the slope to Snowpoint, conversing about things that gradually deviate from the ridiculously chilly circumstances – You're training here too? Don't you feel cold? Do you like your job? What's… your favourite colour?

They reach the pokécenter and warm up just before a huge blizzard hits the area. They spend the next few hours talking properly, without false guises and casting away unwanted doubts. Candice joins them in-between the admittedly entertaining period, but leaves abruptly with a coy smile and a teasing wink with knowing eyes after half an hour or so. Maylene punches his shoulder in reaction to Candice's embarrassing hint, as if demonstrating that they are merely friends – his shoulder aches for three days.

* * *

The first time they realize they are falling in love, it is in a library, in the dead of the night, between bug-types and listing weaknesses on lined paper. Aaron finds it hard to believe that he has been persuaded to enter the Canalave Library, though Maylene can't really find it in herself to actually care – she's far too preoccupied by the shelves and shelves of knowledge. She marvels at the documentation of previous champions and their strategies, swoons at the words depicting the best ways to train a pokémon, and smiles brightly as her hands discover a file filled with notes on the various pokémon types and their statistics.

"Why can't we just train instead of coming here to read books?" Aaron finds himself whining as they seat themselves at an empty table, him placing a selection of books Maylene had clumsily tossed into his arms onto the desk.

The girl with the pink hair folds her legs after getting onto a chair before burrowing her bandaged nose into the heart of the book she cradles in her hands. "Because one can learn from books, what is impossible to learn from the battlefield," she explains vaguely, eyes darting across the page, drinking in the information.

He sighs into his arms as he rests his chin on the table, erasing the endearing feeling that starts to flutter over his heart at the scene of her brow scrunched and her eyes alert, completely inattentive to everything else around her. The research about the seventeen varying types of pokémon is scattered in piles of crumpled paper beneath her elbows. Aaron leans over and uses one hand to fish out the pile about bug-types, wrist bumping against her milky skin. He feels his cheeks flush, but Maylene continues to remain absorbed in the words, failing to realize the contact and the resulting tension.

This is weird; he's always brushed Cynthia's hand in the morning during breakfast. The champion finds sadistic pleasure in stealing his toast. And… she's a female, and so is Maylene – _technically_, even without any visible assets, Aaron reasons. So why would she make his heart drum in his chest? The green-haired fixates his gaze on the bug-pokémon research he finally manages to find, only to let another conundrum overtake his mind. Why are the documents regarding bug-types so thin?

Aaron loses himself in unhappy indignation, shaking Maylene's shoulder in frantic alarm. The nerve of the librarian staff – to compile so little data on the wondrous world of the bug-types is nothing short of insulting. He flips through the pages and begins to list out all the things that the writer has missed out in his shoddy workmanship. Maylene fumbles with her pencil in the middle of his extending dialogue and begins to jot down notes intently.

It takes Aaron five minutes to realize that he has been droning on about bug-types.

"I-I'll stop talking, people say I tend to glorify my bug-pokemon a little too much…" Aaron wanders off, disheartened as he catches himself. However, the girl next to him shakes her head in definite protest. She jabs a playful punch at his arm, which still administers a noticeable amount of pain.

"No! I like it, I like how you talk about bug-types, everyone should be as enthusiastic as you!" she says decisively, voice energetic and free from mock. When she notices the earnest weaved in her words, her cheeks redden and her mouth shrinks awkwardly.

A smile breaks out on Aaron's face, one that comforts – they share a bout of sheepish laughter that blends too well echoing across the halls of the library, before settling into a silence that never leaves until she mutters a small farewell.

* * *

The first time they hold hands, it is in an empty, abandoned house, in the middle of a freezing storm. Aaron is genuinely grateful to have accompanied Maylene on this particular training session, for the snow had been particularly unpredictable and nasty that day. For a girl to be caught in the middle of such heavy snow simply would not do – and the fact that the girl was Maylene has completely nothing to do with his breeding consternation. They trek through the building snow and somehow find themselves at the door of an abandoned house. They let themselves in to shelter from the cold, and Maylene starts to jump around the tiny room, arms outstretched as she chews her lower lip.

Aaron shrugs off his jacket and tilts his head.

"What's the matter?" he asks aloud, visibly irked.

"M-my nose, the bandage, and the cold…" The gym leader gestures wildly at her face, and the itch stemming from her nose. She plants a hand over the bandage, and attempts to peel it off, only to be repelled by the pain following the innocent tug.

Aaron seats himself on the floor and coaxes the girl over to his side, a smirk taking shape on his mouth. As one of his hand hovers over her nose, Maylene instinctively clamps her fingers over the other hand resting on his lap, eyes shut tight and mouth curled into a frown. The boy jumps at the feeling of her cold fingers winding over his, and is ultimately thankful that the girl is momentarily blind.

"I'll do it fast, okay?" he reassures her.

"Quick, quick!" she responds.

The moment he rips off the plaster, her hands leave his fingers and he receives a punch on his chin.

* * *

The first time they go on a date, it is on the streets of Jublife and it ends up being a double date. It is also the first time they confess their love to one another. Aaron decides to just show up at the entrance of her gym and see what reaction he ignites. He doesn't expect two bulky men clad in karate gear to greet him with furrowed brows and grimaces etched on their faces. They scrutinize him for a moment, taking in the sleeveless shirt and the hair.

"You Maylene's friend?" one asks gruffly.

Aaron nods weakly in response just as Maylene pushes herself through the wall the two men form, and welcomes him with a wave and a pleasant smile. She instantly agrees to have dinner with him, and Aaron can't help but wonder if she knows that he has just asked her on a date – apparently, at least the two sneering men looming over him seem to catch his drift. Maylene obliviously steps out of the gym, barefoot as usual, and they start to walk alongside one another down the lighted streets.

Aaron finds the evening to be moderately perfect, except that he senses something amiss with every dark corner they take. He looks behind several times, only to see nothing. As the pair passes a small stand selling flowers, the pink-haired girl takes the chance to sample the aromas and behold the myriad of assorted flowers. Within these few seconds, Aaron happens to incline his head to the left, and his eyes widen as he spots two hauntingly familiar men nestled in the nearby bushes, cracking their knuckles and glaring directly at him in coordinated intimidation.

He yelps softly as Maylene returns to his side and the two hefty males take cover under the leaves.

For the next half an hour, he's jittery and can't hold a conversation with her for more than a minute without glancing over his shoulder. Maylene becomes disgruntled with the situation and demands for an explanation.

"I-I'm scared, damnit!"

"Why?"

"Because I like you," he says indiscriminately out of panic, receives a knee in the stomach from the insulted girl, and proceeds to bend over on the gravel pavement, " – _I'm not done yet!_ – and those two bodyguards won't stop tailing us."

Maylene raises her eyes swiftly at the prompt, landing them on the dark outlines of her two faithful gym trainers hiding in the bushes. She immediately apologises to the Elite Four member curled up on the ground and gripping his abused stomach, extending a hand to take his and hoist him onto wobbling feet. Her hand doesn't let go of his as she turns to address the stalkers, and Aaron suddenly can't find the feeling in himself to complain about the pain branching from his throbbing stomach. Then, he realises the suicidal words of confession he has spouted, and proceeds to try to sink out of sight.

"I'm old enough to do what I want now, you two! And that includes going out with boys!" she argues, and the two karate brothers exchange disappointed glances before stalking off back to the gym. She turns around to face Aaron again, just when he is about to vault into the nearby shrubs to hideaway from the ensuing embarrassment.

"So you… like me?" Maylene murmurs breathlessly, accustoming herself to the words.

Aaron knows that his cheeks have heated and the ability to look into her eyes has escaped him. His feet root themselves to the ground and his blood goes cold.

Maylene pauses to observe his behaviour, capriciously innocent and somehow alluring. She then squeezes his hand and leads him quietly along streets to the best diner in the town, smiling broadly and eyes almost illuminating that lively magenta. And as he allows himself to follow, he wonders if maybe – just maybe, she likes him back too.

* * *

The first time they kiss, it is almost between life and death, and the snow should be a cliché by now.

Maylene's eyes grow out of focus as the snowfall creates a barrier that prevents him from waving to any nearby trainers for assistance. He blames himself for allowing her to come to the mountain to train despite the knowledge of her rigorous training – he should have purposely lost the battle they held last week. The girl had been fueled with the vigor of a loss to push herself to the limit, it's no wonder that she's currently staggering behind him, struggling to even stay awake in the biting cold.

"Come on, Maylene, stay awake!" Aaron pleads, gripping her shoulders and watching as her eyelids drift shut. He shouts in aggravation, franticly scouring the vicinity for anyone else – they were close to Snowpoint, he could tell, but she couldn't afford to sleep in the cold. His eyes cast themselves on her blue lips, and he gulps – he wonders if saving a life outweighs sexual harassment, but quickly throws the absurd measure away.

He kisses her right on the lips, feels and tastes the velvet softness and the girlish persona that she hardly portrays. His body immediately warms, and he smiles in relief against her mouth when she searches herself for consciousness to return the kiss with hazy zest and ardor.

"I'm awake! I-I'm awake!" she squeaks, breaking them apart.

Her eyes glimmer coral-pink ideally against the backdrop of driving snow. He doesn't understand why he finds the whole situation so touching and adorable. And he waits briefly for a punch that never comes.

"Good… stay that way or I'll have to…" he mumbles half-heartedly once he realizes that she doesn't intend to hammer him, cursing the fact that his cheeks must be as rosy as hers.

Aaron buries his burning mouth into his wooly scarf and pulls the stuttering Maylene onwards through the snow, up the route marked with memories and training routines that mean more to him than they should.

* * *

The first time they say "I love you"; it is not in the snow, nor in the dead of night, nor at an eating competition. It is outside Victory Road, at the rise of sun, holding hands, shoulders touching, after she finally trounces him in a friendly battle. Aaron watches the way her eyes shine, and how soft the pink hair he cards through his hands is, and realizes that despite all the bruises and beatings, ultimately – he hasn't been hurt or lost at all.

**end**


End file.
